


I am a Sleepwalker (Of Two Dark Moons)

by wendigo_alderson



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Nightmares, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 10:38:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13809444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendigo_alderson/pseuds/wendigo_alderson
Summary: ❝ A shadow of someone’s shade, I am a sleepwalker / Of two dark moons. ❞— Marina Tsvetaeva, from “[The war, the war],” In the Inmost Hour of the Soul tr. Nina KossmanClarke has a nightmare that she loses Bellamy, leading the two to addressing some feelings.





	I am a Sleepwalker (Of Two Dark Moons)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to cope with my feelings

Clarke thinks herself a fool for thinking she could do this. This no strings attached, gentle brushing of fingertips, murky eyes holding shipwrecks and gentility all at once. He was beautiful. She thinks she hadn’t really understood that word before she met him. The way the divot in his lip curls up when he smiles, merging into the smattering of soft constellations on his cheeks. He’s not beautiful in the way Lexa was. Lexa was soft golden cheekbones and eyes that crinkled softly when she laughed and god she swears she was a goddess molded by whatever higher being existed above. And she thanked this merciful god for Lexa and cursed him in violent shaking sobs with blood on her hands.    
It took her months to be able to look him in the eyes. Redefine the celestial hostel she’d left behind. She can’t look into his sunken eyes and see the flicker of pain that flashes across them. She cursed herself for thinking that she could leave love behind. She knew she didn’t deserve Bellamy. She didn’t deserve the safe feeling that bloomed in her chest when he gripped her small hands with his own larger ones. There was nothing romantic in the touch, just bellamy grounding her when things became too much. But she’d come to think even these small touches were undeserved.    
It creeps up on her slowly in December. She’s fighting off the shivers that course through her body as she lies in her tent, thankful for the protection against the wind. She wishes suddenly for the warmth of someone else beside her to hold her until the cold slipped from her bones. She needs the comfort of large calloused palms, smooth against the small of her back, and freckled skin-   
The realization hits her so hard that her breath audibly hitches. She can’t fall for him. She can’t. Clarke tries to push down the feeling of safety that comes with the visual of Bellamy, snuggling down into the furs hoping for a long dreamless sleep. Clarke’s wish isn’t granted. She wakes up with the ghost of scarred lips soft and loving against her own.    
  
It’s February and she’s been trying to dodge Bellamy even though it sends pangs of hurt into her chest. She thinks she can keep it up. It all crumbles away on a cold night in her tent.    
  
She can’t breathe, all she can focus on is Bellamy, her beautiful Bellamy with his knees digging into the floor and his head pinned to the floor by the barrel of a handgun. His face is blotched with bruises and blood but the soft star-like patterns of freckles on his skin still stand out. He’s kneeling on the cold floor with a gun to his head and he’s smiling tearfully at her and trying to comfort her. Even while he’s dying. His eyes are so full of caring and Clarke is choking on her sobs, her whole body shivering.    


“Please stop don’t hurt him!” She wails at their captor. 

“Please you can do anything to me just don’t touch him, please, God,” she’s cut off by her own gasping tears.    


“Hey, hey Clarke. Look at me princess.” He murmurs gently and the man above him digs the gun in harder against his temple. Clarke can’t breathe, he’s looking at her with softness, like she’s worth something.    


“Shhh, Clarke, hey.” He murmurs trying to calm the girl before him who is so visibly breaking down. She can’t reach him.    


“Time’s up” booms a voice from behind her and Clarke screams, tugging harder at her restraints.    


“Clarke, I love-“ and there’s a bang and Bellamy’s blood is on the floor and she’s screaming his name and    


“Clarke!” She can't breathe, she can't stop staring at his body, crumpled on the floor.    


“Clarke, wake up!”

  
Clarke awakens gasping for breath, body shaking violently, face wet with tears and she barely registers the familiar hands holding onto her.    


“Bellamy?” She mumbles softly, throat sore and she realizes she must’ve been screaming. He looks down at her with such sympathy clouding his face, the pad of his thumb gently stroking her cheekbone, stroking back the sweaty hair stuck to her forehead.    


“I heard you scream my name and I-“ Bellamy can’t finish because the dream comes barreling back into her head and she’s choking and grabbing at his white t-shirt that he sleeps in and panic floods over his face. She can’t breathe and she can’t lose him too and she’s clutching at his spine.    


“Shit, come on Clarke. Hey, breathe.” Bellamy croaks, concern lacing his voice. He holds her against his body as he feels the violent tremors that course through her small body. It causes him an unexplainable pain to see her like this. So vulnerable, so hurt.    
She suddenly pulls her face back from the crook of his neck, hands coming up to hold his face close to hers and his breath stutters at the proximity of their lips. She lets her eyes run over the entirety of his face, recognition and a sense of safety washing over here. Another tear slips down her face.   


“I lost you Bell” she says, voice barely above a whisper. Something unrecognizable passes over his face, his eyebrows furrowing in sadness at her pained expression. He moves his hand to cover her own on the side of his face, long fingers stroking down her knuckles.    


“I’m right here Clarke” He croaks, voice wavering.    


“I’m right here, you’re gonna be okay”  her eyes flicker away from him as another sob escapes her. She’s so scared and she can’t stop the words from rushing out her lips. She’s straddling his lips, one of his hands covering her own, the other gently massaging her back and it’s too much.    


“I love you.” His eyebrows shoot up on his face and his mouth drops open in shock.    


“Clarke-“ He starts and she shakes her head.   


“I know you don’t feel the same and I didn’t want to tell you but I can’t die knowing that I never told I tried not to fall in love with you I-“   


“Clarke”   


“I know it’s stupid and you’re probably uncomfortable but I-mmph!” She’s cut of abruptly by his lips crashing against her own. It’s passionate and he’s moving his mouth against her own with a heat that says everything he can’t. When they break apart, both breathing heavy, Bellamy’s eyes dark with want he’s staring at her.    


“I love you too.” He leans in and kisses her again, softer this time.    


“But you think too much,” He chides softly and that surprises a wet laugh out of her. His grip on her waist tightens but it’s innocent, an action of protectiveness. He’s safe. They’re safe.


End file.
